A man at Peace
by Spades And Swords
Summary: A part of the forest refuses to heal. When LeFou is forced to venture inside, a ghost of the past may never allow him to go back.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: All characters belong to Disney.**

* * *

Autumn had come to the village.

It was in those times of chilling wind that the tavern overflew with people.

The laughter of the villagers was as warming as the fire on the hearth. A small breeze made the flame flicker every time someone opened the entrance's door.

LeFou had his eyes fixed on the fire. His dinner laid in front of him, cold and as forgotten as the mug on his hand.

Behind him, a merry group raised their drinks and proposed a toast. They were led by Tom and Dick.

Their voices overcame all other chattering.

"Let's drink a health." Dick's slurred his words. LeFou knew he was close to lose consciousness in a drunken stupor. "For Prince Adam!"

Everyone in the tavern joined them, included LeFou.

He raised his mug, but he didn't turn around.

"And for his _bel_ bride, Belle!" Added Tom. Some drops of his beer fell on LeFou's shoulders and on his dinner. He didn't mind; it had been hours since he had lost his appetite. "Did you hear that, Dicky? What a fine verse I just made! Guess my mother was right: underneath my rough exterior beats the heart of a poet."

"Then we'll also drink a health for you, Thomas. Our _poete de poetes,_ our own Provincial French Shakespeare!"

"Don't say that name! It brings back bad memories, filled with of endless classes and angry teachers slapping me in the head. Dick, you summoned memories that should have remained forgotten! Thou art a villain!"

"What was that? Speak normally or I'll beat you."

"I'll beat you iambically, you scut!"

The next LeFou heard was Dick's breathless gasp when Tom tackled him. They bumped on the floor. A small circle of people formed around them, laughing at their bumbling fighting. Those not interested in their antics returned to their former conversations.

Between those two possibilities, LeFou was somewhere in the middle.

It was impossible for him to ignore the chaos when the fight was happening right behind his back, but he had little interest in joining the other villagers in their talking.

Instead, he continued to look at the fire. The heat was starting to sting his eyes, and the floating ashes made his nose watery.

The flame flickered again.

LeFou felt a cold and fleeting wind caressing his cheek.

It was in that moment that a memory flashed before his eyes.

It wasn't a peaceful reminiscence, but a sudden image that felt as if it had been branded on his mind.

For a moment, it was a clear vision, but the second after, it was harder to recall than a dream.

All it left behind was a splitting headache and a blazing pain on LeFou's stomach.

He bit his lip, trying to keep his discomfort as private as possible.

It burned, as if a chunk of the firing logs had landed on his clothes and seared his skin.

At first, LeFou thought a naughty dog of some villager had bit him and drew blood, but when he put his hand on what he thought was a fresh wound, right above his navel, he found his clothes untouched and dry.

It was nothing, just a trick from his imagination.

He stared at his hand, relieved but confused.

Had he really imagined it all?

It was likely.

After all, he had been staring at the fire for a while, and everybody knew it gave the gazer all kind of hallucinations if he looked at it long enough.

It was a convenient explanation, but it was not satisfactory.

A little frustrated, LeFou sighed and searched his pockets for the money to pay his unfinished dinner.

Maybe a good night of sleep was all he needed.

At first, he believed it; then, he felt a new memory charging at his mind, with the same strength Tom had tackled Dick.

LeFou closed his eyes, and braced for the upcoming impact.

Rest alone, it seemed, wasn't going to be enough to stop the flow of broken visions.

"You are looking broody tonight. Would a drink improve your mood, _monsieur_?"

A gentle slap in the back of his head erased the traces of the memory about to hit his mind.

He opened his eyes and looked at the man.

They smiled at each other.

The newcomer sat next to him.

"Though I must say, I almost don't want you to lose that serious gaze. It looks good on you."

LeFou scoffed playfully at that statement.

"So my appearance is what you like the most about me? Just think of how disappointed the Enchantress would be if she saw how easily you forgot the lesson she taught us, Stanley."

"Ah, a jest! There's the LeFou I know. And I didn't even have to invite you a drink to improve your mood." Stanley grinned. "That's fortunate, because what I have in charm, I lack in coin. Looks like the drinks are on you again."

"You are as charming as ever." LeFou rolled his eyes and took a sip from his drink.

"You know it." Stanley shrugged. He got closer to LeFou. "You know me well, don't you?"

"Maybe more than I should, but not as much as I'd like." LeFou felt his cheeks blaze, and knew it wasn't because of the fire.

"Time will fix that." Stanley whispered on his ear. "But before it does, there's something I've been wishing to ask you. It's of utter importance."

LeFou's heart thumped in his chest.

"What is it?"

Stanley got closer and lowered his voice. His lips almost kissed LeFou's ear.

He drew breath and transformed it into words.

"My dear _Monsieur_." His voice was velvet. "Are you going to eat that?"

Stanley kept laughing even after LeFou pushed him away with faked annoyance.

"That look on your face? Priceless." Stanley said as he nibbled at LeFou's cold dinner. "Come on, don't get mad. I can still sweet talk you in the ear after I finish eating. All night long, if you wish."

"Keep talking while you're eating and you'll-" Before LeFou could finish his sentence, Stanley had a coughing fit. LeFou put a hand on his back and offered him what was left of his drink. "Precisely this. Easy now, just take deep breaths."

"Yes. Thank you, mother." Stanley said amidst gasps.

"The comparison flatters me, but I think it's very insulting to your innocent mother, Stan."

"Of course not! Any person who gets compared to you should be flattered." Said Stanley, wiping his tears with his sleeve. He turned around on his seat and pointed at the two men lying on the floor. "If I was comparing her to Tom or Dick, however…. Now, that would be a very different story. Am I right, old friends?"

"Oh, shut up, Stan." Dick growled as he gave Stanley a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Yes, shut up." Echoed Tom. "Though I must say, I can compare your mother to a summer's day; hot, really hot. Hotter than hot. Did I already say hot? Well, hot again, in case it wasn't clear."

Stanley got up and stomped to Tom's side. He grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and shook him over and over, demanding him to apologize to his dear mother, who had left this world years ago.

Dick would have joined in, but he was already snoring loudly next to his friends.

They earned the smiles of some of the villagers, LeFou included.

He turned around on his seat, finally giving his back to the fire.

Soon, he was laughing too.

It was the first time that night that he felt one among the folk. The self-imposed isolation that had loomed over him before Stanley had arrived now seemed foolish and unnecessary.

The comfort lasted long enough for LeFou to regain some of his usual mirth, but it faded when his eyes noticed an image on the tavern's roof.

It honored those fallen in the war.

LeFou's heart sunk to his feet.

Had it always been a memorial of those who had died? Or had it, at some point, been something else?

Something less selfless and more self-centered.

A selfish monument for a selfish man.

A man he…

Then it faded.

LeFou was no longer laughing, and before he realized, an invisible wall separated him from the rest.

A part of him knew he would remain that way unless he remembered what he couldn't recall.

But how could he?

He didn't know.

He looked at the fire again. The flame was gone.

* * *

LeFou waited for Stanley outside Tom's house. After the angry lecture Dick's wife had given him and Stanley about getting drunk in weekdays, LeFou had no wish of dealing with another upset spouse.

He folded his arms and yawned, with his back against a wall.

Once Stanley returned, he looked tired but amused.

Apparently, Tom's wife had taken his husband antics with more humor. Both she and Stanley had laughed at Tom's attempt to calm his wife's temper by reciting a poem of his own invention.

"For a second, I thought he was going to throw up on us. It would have been the most eloquent thing to come out of his mouth this night, don't you think?" Stanley said to LeFou as they walked side by side. "LeFou?"

"Huh?" LeFou hesitated. He nodded, not sure of the question he was answering. "Y-yes, of course."

Stanley stopped and stared at LeFou.

At first, LeFou thought he would be angry at him for his uncaring conversation.

The moonlight made it difficult for him to decipher Stanley's expression, but when LeFou observed it with more caution, he saw only concern.

"What's wrong?" Stanley asked. "And don't say _nothing_ , because we know that isn't true."

LeFou closed his mouth, regretting Stanley had stolen the word before he had the chance to say it.

"Are you not feeling well? We could go to the doctor. Don't worry about the money, I have enough to pay for it."

"But I thought you said you were lacking coin."

"I was just joking. I thought you'd realized that by now. What? You didn't think the tavern owner would let us go without paying just because we are so charming and handsome, did you?"

Until now, LeFou hadn't noticed how carelessly he had walked out of the tavern without paying. Had Stanley not been there, he would be spending the night in the town's cell as punishment.

He hadn't done it out of greed or lack of money.

It simply didn't come to his mind.

"I'm sorry."

"Forget about it." Stanley insisted. "So, what troubles you? You know you can tell me."

"That I know."

"Well?"

LeFou bit his tongue, unsure of what to say, even less how to say it.

Stanley understood his silence as a reluctance to talk.

He was about to assure LeFou they could discuss it at another time, but then, LeFou finally decided to speak.

"I've been having these weirds memories lately." LeFou put a finger on his temple. "But I'm not sure if I can call them that. I'm not even sure if they are really memories."

"Memories that aren't memories?" Stanley folded his arms and tilted his head.

"Maybe, I don't know. At times, they feel real, but they also seem as if I had made them up. I don't know how to put it." LeFou sighed and looked at Stanley. "Or how to prove if they are real or not."

"I see." To say that Stanley was puzzled would be an understatement.

"Stan, don't you ever feel as if we have forgotten someone?"

"Like who exactly?"

"I'm not sure, but he was important."

"To the village?"

"Yes."

 _But to me above everyone else._

LeFou managed to keep those words unsaid, and they left a bitter sensation on his throat as he swallowed them.

"I don't know. I'm not sure what you're talking about." Stanley confessed as he made a visible effort to make sense of what LeFou said. "Well, now that you mention it, Tom, Dick and I used to hang out with this man… Walter was his name! People around here held him in high esteem, but one day he went to the woods to hunt alone, and he never came back. Strange that I should think of him now, when I hadn't done so in years. Could he be the one you are talking about?"

"No!" LeFou exclaimed. "The person I'm talking about wasn't just a hunter. He was a hero! He's the one who did this to me!"

LeFou lifted his shirt. It had been long since the last time he had remembered the origin of the scar on his stomach.

But the image of the responsible was a silhouette without a face.

"Whoa." Stan inspected the wound with the seriousness of a guard. Once he was finished, he patted it. "Nice belly."

"Stan, I'm serious!"

"What makes you think I'm not?"

"Forget it." LeFou put his shirt back on its place and began to walk down the street. "I'll forget about it in the morning too, so why bother?"

Stanley blocked his way. He stood under the starlight and spoke quietly.

"Alright, you've been honest with me, so now I'll be honest with you." He put his hands one LeFou's shoulders. "I don't understand a word of what you just said. If the others hear you, I'm sure they'd throw you into the asylum right away. That or they'll put you in a cell for drinking too much beer in one night."

"Thanks for the uplifting scenarios." LeFou said, exasperated and tired.

"What I mean is that I don't understand you, but I believe you!" Stanley exclaimed out of a sudden. "And I don't know how, but I'll help you solve all this mess with the memories that aren't memories, or I-don't-know-what!"

"Stanley…"

"I have no idea about what we can do, but we'll find a solution along the way, alright?!"

"Yes!"

"Good!"

"Wait, why are we yelling?!"

"Because I feel smarter if I talk this way!"

"It…it actually works!"

"I know!"

An old lady emerged from the window of a house's second floor. She held a bucket on her hands, and promised to empty it on Lefou's and Stanley's heads if they didn't stop their uproar.

"I'm sorry, but this conversation is private!" Stanley yelled at her. "Do you mind?!"

It was only because of LeFou's intervention that the water splashed on the floor rather than on Stanley. They both ran away before other angry villagers decided to show what they thought of their shouting in more aggressive ways.

"These people are always getting their noses in other's people business, I swear." Said Stanley once they stopped running. They had reached his home, a humble lodging with signs of tear and wear. "There's no room for privacy in such a little town."

"That's true, especially when it comes to people as subtle as you, dear Stan." LeFou was starting to catch his breath.

"Precisely." Stanley agreed. His smile froze on his lips, and it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. "You were being sarcastic."

"Who? Me? With you? Never." Said LeFou, acting as if the accusation offended him.

"At least you're back to a merrier mood. Though I wish that the _dear_ part wasn't part of the mockery. Ow, my heart."

LeFou laughed under his breath.

"I'll let you decide the answer."

After biding goodbye, LeFou decided to go to his own home. He hadn't taken three steps when he felt Stanley's hand on his.

"Won't you stay?" He asked.

Though the question had come without a warning, it didn't feel unwelcome.

For an instant, LeFou felt a 'yes' on the tip of his tongue. He would have said it, but his head stung again.

He knew what would follow, and didn't want to worry Stanley further that night. Hiding his pain under the pretense of being tired, he declined the invitation and went on his way before Stanley had the chance to reply.

It was a clunky farewell, but LeFou knew he had done the best he could.

Soon, he was at doorstep of Belle's former home.

Now that she and her father lived in the castle, and after LeFou had settled on the village after Stanley's endless insistence, Belle had allowed him to use her home as if it was his own.

It would only be temporary. LeFou had no wish to abuse such an undeserved generosity. Had he been in her place, he often wondered if he would have forgiven himself as quickly as Belle had.

It was a common thought, but it wasn't one LeFou liked to ponder about for long. He already knew the answer, and it made him uncomfortable.

Stanley, almost daily, suggested him to move in with him. His home, as he put it, was no palace, but it was a good place to live once you got accustomed to its flaws, like the creaking windows at night, and the occasional rat that could be found in the cupboard at least once a month.

The flaws could have been more numerous and worse, and yet, they wouldn't be the reason of why LeFou couldn't bring himself to accept the offer.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized he couldn't pinpoint the real reason. In a way, it was just like the fading memories: he knew it rested on his mind, but he couldn't make sense out of it.

He wished he could, but he didn't know how.

Ignorance, LeFou was starting to realize, wasn't as blissful as the common saying claimed.

He entered the house, didn't light any of the candles, and went directly towards the bed. His head beat harder than his heart, but the surrounding darkness prevented it from getting worse.

He dropped flat on the bed without taking any of his clothes off, not even his shoes. He laid on his back, waiting for sleep to take over him before the memory would.

The last thing he heard before his mind drifted from reality was the distant howling of a pack of wolves.

The same wolves that would have devoured Maurice if _he_ had gotten away with his plan. A plan LeFou had allowed to happen.

Once again, shame poked at his heart.

He had already apologized, and he had already been forgiven. But it wasn't enough, not for him. Tomorrow the prince, Belle, Maurice, and many others of the palace's staff would come to visit the townsfolk.

Maybe then LeFou could explain his actions again.

He could tell them he had only acted that way because of _him._

 _Him_ whom was like no other LeFou had ever known.

 _Him_ whom did things in a manner no one else could.

 _Him_ whose name LeFou's had once known, but could no longer recall.

In his dreams, unknowingly, he said it out loud.

The name died in the air, and once LeFou woke up, it would be gone and forgotten.

In the meantime, LeFou had dreams of his own, and they were of wolves hunting in a snowy forest.


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you charging me this much for just one apple?"

"Blame the prices, not the seller, monsieur."

"Really? I've seen my fair share of merchants in my life to know that the former often depends more on the later, and not in the economy."

The farmer laughed. The nervous chickens, locked in their cages and waiting to be sold, cackled with the same heartiness of their owner.

LeFou couldn't tell if the farmer did so out of amusement, or if it was a nervous reaction of his trickery being revealed in a trivial comment.

Either way, LeFou knew he had no further intention of lowering the price.

Just when he was about to look for a more affordable seller, an arm surrounded Lefou's shoulders. Before he knew it, Stanley was standing next to him. He rested some of his weight against him, and laughed as if he had heard the funniest jest in France.

The farmer' s laughter slowly died down at the sight of him.

"What? No more laughs? And here I thought we were having fun." Stanley doffed his hat, and then slightly squeezed LeFou's arm. "Though I noticed you didn't find it funny from the start, dear Lef. Why was that, I wonder?"

"It was nothing." Insisted LeFou, sensing the farmer's caution and Stanley's readiness to quarrel. "We were just having a conversation about how to make honest business."

"Sounds like an enchanting story." Stanley let go of LeFou and, still smiling, slammed his hands on the table where the farmer displayed his products. All his merchandise trembled, with a couple of eggs falling and cracking on the floor. "One with a good moral that you surely won't forget, will you, my good monsieur? Because I'm sure you know what happens to the sellers that try to play their costumers for fools around here. If you don't, I'll be more than pleased to show you."

LeFou thought of intervening, but soon he and Stanley were walking away from the farmer, each with a free apple on their hands.

"We should pay for these." LeFou said as he put it away inside the pocket of his jacket.

"And refuse that good farmer's generosity? No, that would be rude." Stanley shrugged, putting the reward inside his satchel. "Did you see his face? It seems he not only sells chickens; he is one himself."

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

"I was just trying to teach him a lesson. That farmer is a nice man, but his selling policies have always been dubious at best. I made sure justice was served." Stanley stopped walking and raised his arms in a pose. Some villagers that passed nearby glared at him in confusion. "And free food is always welcome."

"That's a way to see the world, I guess." It was the most LeFou was willing to concede. "Just try not to go around playing hero too much."

"Stanley, haberdasher of profession, hero on his spare time." He smiled at the thought, but it vanished as just as quickly as it had appeared. "Why am I talking all this nonsense? A plague upon Dick and Tom for rubbing their quirks on me!"

"Are you sure it wasn't the other way around?" Teased LeFou, but his words passed unnoticed to Stanley. He was too busy searching for something in his satchel.

He only stopped cursing when he found it.

It was a notebook.

"This why I came looking for you in the first place." He skimmed through the pages. "And because I know that your mornings are not complete without the sight of my face."

He winked at LeFou, who accepted the comment with a grin despite its corniness.

Then, without a warning, Stanley pushed the notebook so close to LeFou's face that his eyelids could caress the paper

"Read it." Stanley urged him.

"Oh, I would. Except for the fact that I can't read." LeFou said, pulling the notebook away from him.

Stanley gave him a small apologetic smile.

"Oh, right." He cleared his throat. "Last night, after we parted, I wrote something here, but I can't make sense out of it. I was hoping you knew what it meant. It says: _Lefy looked good tonight. Really good. That moustache suits him well. Maybe I should grow a beard to match. He would like that…"_

"For the love of God, Stan." LeFou complained, flattered bur flustered. "If you wanted to read your nocturnal musings to me, couldn't you have chosen a more private place than the village's market?"

"Wait, this isn't what I wanted to show you." Said Stan, his cheeks ablaze. "Let me search for it."

LeFou waited as Stanley skipped what he expected were only going to be a few pages. In the end, Stanley ended up skipping more than the half of the notebook.

"Seriously, Stanley?" LeFou didn't know whether to embrace him or slap him in the back of the head.

"What? Blame the inspiration, not the inspired." Said Stanley in his defense. "Here it is! I'll read it to you, and no, it will be nothing of the of _that_ sort, I swear. It says: _LeFou wants to remember, but he doesn't know what. It's strange, and I don't understand. How can I help? Can I help? If I can't, who could? I must find out. Also, tonight I remembered Walter. How could I ever have forgotten about him? Maybe Tom and Dick will know more."_

"Walter." The name escaped Stanley's lips like a sigh. "I forgot about him again. He was my friend. He never came back, but…. who was he?"

His hands trembled, and his eyes got lost into the distance.

It was one thing to be the one suffering from the confusion resultant from unreliable memories, but it was something completely different for LeFou to see that same reaction on someone other than himself.

Especially on someone he cared about.

Worried, and desperate to communicate the fragments of memories assaulting his mind, LeFou grabbed Stanley by the arms and stared into his distant eyes.

They regained their focus, but they lacked expression.

"Stanley, last night, when I told you about…something…. you mentioned him. Walter." LeFou was making a great effort to remember. He felt as if a horse had kicked him in the nape when he managed to recall what had happened. "It is as you wrote. I did tell you about those memories I can't remember. I almost had forgotten about it."

"Me too. I thought I would remember, but…" Stanley put a hand on his forehead and closed his eyes, his jaw and fists firmly clenched. When he looked at LeFou, a gentler expression replaced his anger. "This is how it feels for you, isn't it? The memory stuff you told me about. It's this. What a pair we make; something tells me remembering anniversaries and birthdays is going to be a pain in the ass."

"Yes." LeFou laughed, trying to hide his regret from Stanley.

He never should have told him anything about it.

Now, he had plunged Stanley in whatever whirlwind of confusion he was trapped in.

When would he learn to keep his fears and worries to himself?

He was indeed a fool.

"I'm sorry, Stan. I didn't want to upset you. Let us pretend none of this happened, alright? I'll be fine. You needn't worry about me."

"I do. How can I not, when I see how much it disturbs you?"

"I'll find a way to get over it."

"And I'll help you, as I said I would." Stanley insisted. "And if I can't, then I will find someone else who can. I may have written something about it!"

"Stan." Said LeFou, and felt a twinge of anger when his words fell on deaf ears again. "Leave it, it's nothing. Last night I was tired, and a little drunk too. Let's forget about it."

"Here!" Stanley pointed at the last paragraph on the notebook. There were just two words. _"Ask Agathe_."

LeFou felt how every hair on the back of his head stood up at the sound of that name.

"You mean the Enchantress."

"What a lofty title." Stanley said, rolling his eyes. "Different names, same person."

"If she's even a person at all." Without noticing, LeFou took a step back. "No, Stanley; it's out of the question. You saw what she did to the prince, to all the village. What if we offend her somehow? What if she casts a new spell upon us all again? What would we do then? No, there's much at risk."

"It may be a bit of a gamble." Stanley admitted. His voice was neither soothing nor imposing, but something in between. "But what other choice do we have, LeFou? If there's someone who could help you with your strange problem, is someone as strange as Agathe, or however you want to call her. It'll work, I know it."

"But-" The reasoning, though simple, was too practical for LeFou to contradict.

Still, he was far from being convinced, and once again he insisted in forgetting about it all, arguing that even if they set out to seek for her help, they didn't know where to find her.

Stanley must have noticed LeFou's intentions of ending the conversation, and when he spoke again, he did so with more determination than before.

"We can look for her. She lives somewhere in the forest, doesn't she? It could take us some time, but the forest isn't infinite. We are bound to find her eventually." He said as if it was the obvious. "In fact, doesn't Maurice knows the exact place? He comes here today with Belle and the prince. We could ask him to take us there."

"And what makes you think I have the right of asking that man for a favor? If the Enchantress hadn't rescued him…" The shame of that memory fed his urge to change the subject.

"But she did, and Maurice forgave you. Maybe it's time you did the same."

"That's not the point." LeFou raised his voice, filled with annoyance. "I'm not asking Maurice."

"LeFou."

"Stan."

"Don't be like that. We should at least give it a try."

"Enough, Stanley!"

Stanley's temper showed in the pulsating veins of his temples.

"Then I will ask him." He said.

"Perfect, then you shall venture into the forest all by yourself."

"So be it. I move faster when I'm on my own, anyway."

"Then be my guest. I won't stand in the way of your meddling."

Neither LeFou nor Stanley had noticed the gossip eyes fixed on them until Père Robert intervened and ended their argument.

The curious villagers had watched the scene as if it was a play on the street.

Many of them had already taken sides.

"I'm with you, Stan. I have no idea what you two are talking about, but I'm with you." Exclaimed Dick, earning the approval of some of the villagers.

"LeFou did seem like the voice of reason in this one." Said Tom. Numerous people echoed their agreement. "Then again, isn't he always?"

Père Robert glared at them. It was all it took for the gossip group to disperse like smoke. LeFou watched them return to their daily activities as if nothing had happened.

He wished he could do the same.

Stanley folded his arms and looked away.

LeFou answered in the same manner.

"If you two have the time to make a scene in front of everyone, then you have time to help others." Said Père Robert, not impressed with the scarce response he obtained from the angry men. "Come with me."

Avoiding exchanging glances with each other, LeFou and Stanley followed him in gelid silence. After what it felt like hours, they reach the chapel where the Père kept his books.

He told them to wait for him outside until he returned.

LeFou nodded.

Stanley grunted and shrugged.

LeFou killed the time by inspecting the changes that had occurred on the chapel. It had grown twice its original size thanks to Belle's constant donations, both in money and in texts.

She and prince Adam would arrive soon, surely with big packages of books that children and adults alike could enjoy.

It would be nice to see them again, especially Belle.

He was about to share that thought with Stanley, but the freshness of their fight held his tongue.

Stanley gave no signs of caring.

Père Robert returned, carrying a pile of books so large that it went higher than his head. He gave half of them to Stanley, and the rest to LeFou.

"Take them outside the village, to the usual spot where Belle and the prince Adam read to the children. Try not to drop them." He looked at the tower clock. "The little ones should already be there. Keep them company in the meantime. Read them a short story, perhaps."

"But I can't- "

"I know, LeFou." Said the Père. "Let Stanley read instead, and you will listen together with the children. After all, listening is the first step to learn how to read and write."

Stanley cursed under his breath.

"What was that, Stanley?"

"Nothing, nothing." He grunted, and went on his way. "Let's get this over with."

LeFou gave one last look to Père Robert before going after Stanley. He could have catch up to him, but he decided to keep his distance.

Meanwhile, Stanley didn't look over his shoulder to see if LeFou was following. He stomped his feet on the ground as if he wanted to break it apart.

His cold indifference stung, but LeFou was hardly in a more forgiving mood. His anger, though subtler, was no less incensed.

Still, underneath it, he had the latent fear that the argument had created a breach too big between them.

It amazed LeFou how easily a stupid fight could destroy a bond. Though if the bond was so easily broken, then maybe it never had been strong in the first place.

He felt a lump on his throat.

Was Stanley feeling the same way, or did he not care at all?

LeFou had no way of knowing, nor he had the wish to ask him.

In a deeper silence than before, the two of them left the village behind and reached a group children gathered around a flowery spot.

They greeted them with the natural cheerfulness of their age. Stanley answered with a gruffness the children considered amusing, while LeFou faked a smile.

The last he wanted was to spoil the children's leisure time with his own problems.

That was what a selfish man would do, and he was not a selfish man.

If nothing else, he had to remember that.

* * *

It was a good thing Père Robert wasn't there to see his beloved books so uncaringly dispersed on the ground like fallen leaves.

Some of the children had shown interest in them at first, but they became irrelevant the moment Stanley started telling a story. It came not from a book, but from his mind.

LeFou thought of calling him out, an idea partly fueled by the irritation he felt towards him, but he decided to go with the flow when he noticed all the children were fascinated by the story.

It was one LeFou knew well.

How couldn't he when he had been part of it?

Though in Stanley's lips, it sounded so different that it hardly resembled what had really happened. LeFou wasn't impressed with the liberties Stanley took; he would have been surprised if he hadn't done something of the sort.

"And when I defeated the crazed piano and it begged for my forgiveness, I laughed at it, and knocked it out with one single punch to his keyboards. The other enchanted objects ran away, too scared to fight against Stanley, slayer of antiquities."

"Amazing!" Said the children in unison. They laughed and look up to Stanley as if he was a famous warrior.

"You are so brave, Uncle Stanley." Said a girl. Her father's features were impressed on her face. She was sitting next to LeFou. He imagined that her mellow disposition was a trait she had developed and not inherited, given the rowdy tempers of Dick and his wife.

Stanley didn't object to the compliments, though LeFou's accusative eyes weighed him down. He glared at him before returning his attention to his young audience.

LeFou wasn't going to get him get away with it so easily.

"What a great retelling, Stanley. No doubt the prince and the others will love it as much as we did." He said with pretended admiration. "Surely Maestro Cadenza will be flattered by your characterization of him. What do you say, children? Should we ask the Maestro for his own version of Stanley's tale?"

"Yes!" All the children agreed, eager for more stories from the now famous battle in the enchanted castle.

Stanley looked at LeFou with an expression he usually saved for Dick and Tom every time they got on his nerves.

To anyone else, it would have been menacing, but for LeFou it felt like a victory.

Though it brought him some satisfaction, his pettiness soon turned it dull and meaningless.

"How about you delight us with your version in the meantime, LeFou? After all, yours is far more entertaining than mine." Stanley said.

LeFou tried to refuse, but soon the children showered him with questions and pleads.

"Really? Tell us, Monsieur LeFou."

"Yes! You and Monsieur Stanley tell the story better than the other adults."

"Is it true that a talking wardrobe put a dress on my dad and on Uncle Stanley?" Dick's daughter asked as she pulled LeFou's sleeve. "It's a pretty dress. Dad says I can wear it once I grow up a bit more."

"Is Mr. Pott's wife still a tea pot?"

As he tried to keep the children questions from overwhelming him, LeFou saw a victory smile appear on Stanley's face.

"Is it true that prince Adam was a villain when he was a beast?" Asked a boy. "He must have been scary."

"Of course he was, stupid." Dick's daughter replied. "And Monsieur LeFou and Uncle Stanley were heroes. Haven't you been listening?"

"Language, girl." Scolded LeFou.

"Sorry." She said, almost against her will. "But it's true, isn't it? You were a hero! And so were my dad, Uncle Tom, Uncle Stanley, and everyone that went to the castle."

LeFou could only imagine what version Dick and his wife had told their child. Given the reaction of the rest, LeFou realized the rest of the parents had done the same.

He didn't fault them.

Had he been in their place, he wouldn't have wanted his kids to think of him as a part of a wrathful mob, mindlessly following the lead of…

A momentary clarity showed him the shadow of someone he had known. It left him in a state of numbness that was broken when the girl pulled his sleeve again.

The children, if they had notice his brief trance, were more interested in hearing his story. The most impatient frowned and scowled.

"I'm sorry." LeFou looked at his feet. "But mine is not the story of a hero. In many ways, I'm what you'd call a -"

He didn't say the word. He needn't to, and the children were more than capable to fill in the missing gap.

All of them looked at each other in confusion, with Dick's daughter being the most disconcerted.

"What is Monsieur LeFou saying? Why would he say that?"

"I don't understand."

"Does that mean that Beast-Prince Adam was the hero?" Asked the same boy as before. "In that case, are our parents the bad guys?"

"No, dad is not a villain!"

"But I thought they were heroes. They said they were…"

"Does that make us villains too?"

"I don't want to be one of the bad guys." Some of the youngest were teary-eyed and voice broken.

It didn't take long before a couple of them began to weep.

The older, more practical and cynical, were afraid that Prince Adam would punish their parents for their actions, which could be considered little less than treason.

"Wait, no. That's not what I meant." But LeFou's attempts had no success in easing the children's doubts. He tried to cheer them up by joking about it, but it was too late for humor to mend that chaos.

He scratched his head and breathed quickly, afraid that the situation would get out of and that that half of the villagers would end up resenting him for setting such doubts on the minds of their kids.

Out of all of the upset faces, it was Dick's daughter's which hurt him the most. Her eyes always gleamed with pride whenever she spoke of her father's deeds, but now, they were opaque with disappointment.

That would hurt her father more than any punch he had received in his life, and it would be LeFou's doing.

If only he hadn't spoken so freely…

"Enough!" Stanley's voice worked like a charm. He sounded like a stern teacher angry at his distracted students, but when he spoke again, his tone was mellower. "You have no reason to cry nor to be afraid, so stop it right now."

"But our parents are the bad guys of the story!"

"They are not."

"So were they the heroes?" Asked Dick's daughter with hope.

Stanley thought about the question for a moment before answering. The children looked at him expectantly, while LeFou kept his eyes down.

"Not every story has heroes and villains, especially those that really happened." Stanley said. "When we first heard about the Prince-turned-Beast, your parents and every other adult in the village were very afraid. They wanted to protect you from what they didn't understand, from a monster they thought could hurt you. In their fear to lose you, they reacted in a foolish, violent way. They may also have agreed to do things that normally they wouldn't have done. That's what fear does; it makes people act like fools, as villains some would say, even when they are not."

The children listened in silence.

"Was the prince scared too?" One of them dared to ask.

"I'm sure he was, just like the other members of the castle."

"Were you scared as well?"

Stanley chuckled under his breath. LeFou lifted his eyes, hoping to meet his, but it was Stanley's turn to look away.

"Yes. I still-"

The echo of the tower clock's bell suppressed the rest of his answer. Once it faded, LeFou expected Stanley to proceed.

Instead, he dismissed the children and allowed them some time to play while the Prince and the others arrived.

Though hesitant at first, they soon became immersed in their games. They would probably consider Stanley's words later, if they hadn't forgotten them by nightfall.

As the children played, LeFou rejoined Stanley.

They stood in silence, watching the forest.

"Where the hell are they?" Stanley said with his arms folded. "Those royals, always arrving late."

"I hope they come. I was looking forward to seeing Belle."

"If you're trying to make me jealous, that won't work." Stanley said seriously.

LeFou breathed a laugh so faint it could have passed for a cough.

Stanley allowed himself to relax.

Then, they finally looked at each other in the eye, this time without resentment.

"I'm sorry." Stanley took LeFou off guard. "I wasn't trying to impose myself. I just… I was sure I had found the answer for your problem. I thought it could work, but the more I think about it, the more I realize how stupid it is. Maybe I wanted it to work just so you wouldn't think of me as a moron, but I ended up acting like an idiot to you instead."

LeFou's heart softened.

"It wasn't a stupid idea, Stanley. I never wouldn't have come up with it."

"That just further proves that it is." Stanley grunted. "I spent all night thinking about how to help you, and the best I could come up with was asking Agathe. I bet these kids could come with a better solution than me in five minutes or less."

"Enough of this self-pity." LeFou put a hand on his shoulder. "It's not like you. You were trying to help me. I should have been grateful for that, instead I just shunned you..."

His sight became blurred.

"Hey, don't cry on me now." Stanley gently passed his thumb under LeFou's right eye. "There's no need to. It was just some stupid fight."

"I'm not crying." LeFou complained.

"Of course not. The wind got something into your eye." Stanley winked at him. "Let's forget about the whole Agathe thing, alright? All I ask, LeFou, is that you let me help you until we find a way to sort out whatever ails you."

LeFou felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"You needn't ask." He said with a smile. "Besides, that idea about writing every we recall was brilliant. It could be our own log book! Minus the nocturnal musings."

"What? You're no fun." Stanley pouted.

They enjoyed some minutes of chattering, with the sound of the children playing in the background.

It was a moment of peace as LeFou hadn't felt for a long time, not since he and…

"They're here!" Shouted a girl as a horse emerged from the forest, trotting along the path together with its rider.

A guard.

The rest ended their games and gathered close to Stanley and LeFou, eager to receive whatever treats and gifts Prince Adam and Belle had brought them.

The two men waved at the guard , expecting others to follow right behind him.

No one else did.

It gave LeFou a bad felling, but it was Stanley who first noticed the bad shape of the animal and the man. Once it got closer, the pain the horse felt every time its hooves touches the ground was as evident as the blood stains on the guard's armor.

Out of a sudden, the horse collapsed as if an arrow had pierced its heart. It fell to one side, crushing half of its rider's body beneath its weight.

The children gasped, screamed and cried.

"Stanley, wait!" LeFou tried to catch him as he dashed towards the fallen man. He turned around to face the children, whose faces were tainted with the same fear LeFou had once seen on their parents. "Stay here. We'll be back soon, I promise."

Dick's daughter nodded at him, her face covered with tears but with a courage not many of her peers shared.

LeFou went to Stanley's side as quickly as he could. The guard's head rested on Stanley's hands. He had bled most of his blood long before he had found the way out of the forest.

The image brought back memories of the war. LeFou had wished never to see anything like that again.

Stanley swallowed and closed they guard's unexpressive eyes.

"He's gone." He announced, cloaking the tears trapped in his throat behind a respectful solemnity.

LeFou knelt beside him.

"Did he say anything about what happened?"

"They were attacked." Stanley could barely join he words without his voice breaking midsentence. "All he managed to say was the prince's name, and something about…"

A growl behind them froze their blood. Behind them, the children screamed.

By instinct, LeFou and Stanley stood up and stared into the beast's eyes.

The wolf was bigger than any LeFou had ever seen. Its muscles brimmed with restless energy ready to be unleashed on its prey.

Most disconcerting than the its unnatural size was the sword stuck on its stomach. It was mortal wound, but the wolf was still breathing.

That was what scared LeFou the most.

Very slowly, and with the wolf growling at his every movement, Stanley bowed down and picked a thick branch from the ground.

"Go with the children, LeFou. Take them back to village and close the gates." Stanley whispered as the wolf became more aggressive. Its razor-sharp fangs reflected the midday sunlight. "I'll hold it back.

"What?"

The wolfed howled and ran towards them.

It paws made the ground tremble.

Stanley pushed LeFou away.

"Go!" Stanley managed to use the branch to trap the wolf's bite.

It took every ounce of LeFou's will to turn his back on him and return to the children. He felt burning tears streaming down his face.

"Run to the village!" He screamed at them. "Hurry!"

Like a dog shepherding a group of sheep, LeFou stayed behind them, guarding them from the danger and making sure none of them was left behind.

His heart thumped in his chest.

Tears and sweat filled his eyes with salt.

One of the kids tripped and fell on the grass.

LeFou picked her up and carried her for the rest of the way.

Without knowing how or when, they reached the village's entrance safely. The children dispersed in search for their parents.

All of them were crying, regardless of their age.

The villagers surrounded them, fidgety about the unexpected scandal.

LeFou was the last one to arrive. The child in his arms hugged him tightly. Her nails were dug deep on his skin.

She only eased her grip when her parents went to collect her.

"There she is!" Dick exclaimed as he and his wife picked up their daughter. After making sure she was safe, Dick looked at LeFou. "What the hell happened!?"

Such a question meant nothing to LeFou.

Without giving any sort of explanation to the baffled folk, he turned on his heels and went back on his steps.

Dick screamed his name numerous times, but not once did LeFou answer.

His legs burned and trembled, but he forced them to keep going despite the growing pain. His body felt everything, but LeFou's mind had room for one thing only.

"Stanley!" He screamed, with the distant figures of a man and a wolf becoming visible again.

The animal huffed as if it was chocking, with blood dripping from its muzzle.

Its ears were flattened and his fangs were bared.

Stanley was only a few steps away from the angry beast. When LeFou saw the crimson mark spreading on the sleeve of Stanley's shirt like ink on paper, he felt his own blood rushing back to his heart.

It wasn't until he tried to reach for a sheathed dagger on his belt that he realized he was unarmed. With his mind clouded by fear and his reflexes enhanced with adrenaline, he picked a fallen branch from the ground and wielded it like a sword.

It was a brittle stick, but it was better than facing the wolf bare handed.

When LeFou finally reached them, Stanley had fallen to his knees. His face was distorted with pain. He held his wounded arm close to his chest.

Breathing seemed to take most of his strength.

The wolf stood in front of him, his hunting finally coming to an end. It gave a distraught howl that sounded like the cry of a maniac.

It lowered his head and stretched its hinder paws.

One leap foward, and everything would be over.

"No!" LeFou's hand went inside his jacket's pocket and remerged with an apple he had forgotten.

He threw at the wolf without aiming.

It flew across the air like a lost arrow, but it did manage to hit the animal on the nose.

The wolf forgot about its fallen prey and turned his head towards LeFou.

Two emotions, equal in intensity, overcame LeFou as the wolf dashed towards him with its jaws wide opened. The first one was relief because of Stanley's surival, and the second was the fear of his imminent death.

One last glimmer of courage gave him the chance of defending himself with the branch. It succeeded in stopping the wolf's bite from digging into his neck, but it didn't prevent LeFou from falling on his back.

The wolf's strength made every bone on his arms creak. The beast's rotten breath crashed against his face and fazed his senses.

LeFou fought back, but he knew that if his bones didn't give in, the branch would.

He knew that would be the end of him.

Not once he had thought that death would come for him in the shape of a wolf.

Just when he had resigned to his fate, a branch that didn't belong to him rested across the wolf's neck and pulled him off of him.

He saw the wolf's bare belly as it fell on the man who fought to hold him in check.

"Run!" Stanley said underneath the wolf that crushed him. His wounded arm bled like a leak.

LeFou got back on his feet, breathless.

Stanley had endangered himself again, and now, he had no chance to save him. LeFou also knew that, even if his muscles exhausted, he had no chance of running away.

He wouldn't have done so even if he'd had the chance.

The sentiment sounded noble at first, but it also meant that Stanley's sacrifice had been in vain.

They would both die there, devoured by a crazed wolf, and only their remains would be left to tell the story of their demise.

 _Pull the sword._

The sentenced echoed in LeFou's mind.

It was as if someone had whispered it in his ear.

 _What?_

 _Pull the word from the belly of the beast. Now!_

It was a command he dared not to disobey.

He approached the beast with bumbling steps.

Stanley shouted something at him.

LeFou said nothing.

With the little strength he had left, he grabbed the sword from the handle and pulled it from the wolf's flesh.

It turned apart muscle and skin on its way out, making the wolf cry in agony.

For LeFou, it felt like cutting warm butter with a knife.

The blade came out covered with the wolf's insides. A second after, a gush of blood emerged from the open wound like a geyser.

It hit LeFou right above his left eye.

At its touch, LeFou's mind exploded with a torrent of memories. In them, he finally saw the face of the silhouette that had haunted him for so long.

It was a man he knew.

A man he had loved.

 _Gaston._

Then everything faded. His world became an endless darkness.

As he dove deeper into it, the voice from before reached him.

 _So it's you. You are the one who can end this. Come to me, LeFou._

It soothed LeFou into a dreamless sleep.

 _Come to me._


	3. Chapter 3

_The figure was a ray of light amidst the darkness._

 _"I'm fading." The voice had no tone, no color. It was a dying sound without identity. "You are the only one who can hear me. You are too small, too puny; and yet, you may be able to mend what's been torn."_

 _"Who are you?"_

 _"You already know the answer."_

 _"Are you him?" LeFou tried to touch the figure. His arm trembled, all the way from the tip of his fingers to his shoulder. "Is it really you?"_

 _His finger heart went through the figure as if it was steam._

 _It grunted in pain, with the luminesce that formed its body starting to dwindle._

 _LeFou retreated his hand back to his chest._

 _It burned as if he had touched fire._

 _"Time runs short. Soon there will be nothing left." The voice said. "Unless you act."_

 _"What are you talking about? I don't understand."_

 _"There's no need for you to do so." The voice spoke with authority. "You must only do as I say."_

 _"And why should I listen to you? I don't even know who, or what you are." LeFou exclaimed. "Perhaps you're not real. This is a dream, my dream, and you're just part of it."_

 _"And how do you know this is not your death?"_

 _It was a cruel remark than plunged LeFou into a mist of doubt._

 _"This is no time to discuss the nature of our space." The voice was only a whisper. "I can do no more than I already am. Their lives are fragile, as is mine."_

 _"Whose lives?" The answer came to him. "No. What have you done to them!?"_

 _"It's not what's been done, but what will be done to them what matters." Light began to engulf the darkness. "I'm weak, as are you, but soon you will heal. When you do, come to me."_

 _"Wait!"_

 _"Come to me. This you shall remember. For now, it's time for you to …"_

* * *

Wake up.

The sunlight that pierced through the windows hurt his eyes. Once his sight adjusted to reality, his surroundings became clearer.

The first thing LeFou saw was the wooden roof above him.

He tried to move his arms, but it was as if the blanket covering him was made of lead. His movements awoke his dormant wounds.

He hissed as the renewed pain traveled through his body.

"He woke up!"

The next thing he knew, a man appeared next to him. He put his hands on LeFou's shoulders and gently pressed him against the bed.

"LeFou, don't move. Everything's alright, you're safe now." He said, struggling to keep LeFou still.

"Where's Stanley?" The question came to LeFou more as a reflex than a thought.

He could tell by the look on Peré Robert's face that he had not an answer prepared.

LeFou's imagination began to weave the worst of outcomes.

"He's wounded, but alive." Peré Robert said with trembling voice. He held LeFou's hand as if he was comforting an agonizing man. He cocked his head to his right. "He's resting, over there. You should do the same for now."

"No, I can't. I must go."

"Say again?"

"To the forest. It's waiting for me."

Peré Robert stared at LeFou. There was uncertainty and pity in his eyes.

Another man approached him.

His expression was stern.

His sleeves were rolled up.

Dry blood had turned them brown.

"He's rambling. It's most likely a reaction of the stress he went in." He was cleaning his hands with his apron. "Best we leave these two alone for now, Peré Robert."

The Peré let go of LeFou's hand.

"How are they, doctor?"

"Alive. This one got away with a few bruises, but the other… " He sighed. "Well, he's out of harm's way now. As long as the wound doesn't get infected, he should recover."

"I see." Peré Robert said with relief.

"Wolves bites are a nasty business, but they aren't uncommon to the men around here." The doctor stopped looking at LeFou and turned his attention to Stanley. "But the bite of that beast... Had it dug its fangs a little deeper, and pulled a little stronger, it wouldn't be a wound I'm treating, but a missing limb."

LeFou felt a void in his stomach. He moved in his bed, but his body couldn't break free from the embrace of the blankets.

Defeated, he turned his head on the pillow and looked at Stanley with the corner of his eye. All he could see was his figure, as he laid on his own bed, still and rigid like a fallen statue.

"Poor men." Peré Robert said.

LeFou heard regret in his voice.

A collective shouting came from the outside. A moment later, the door of the clinic was slammed open.

"Peré Robert!" A man shrieked. LeFou needn't see him to know he was desperate. "It attacked again. Tom and Dick managed to take it down, but…"

The man started to cry.

It was a pathetic, childish sobbing.

"My chickens, my chickens…."

"How can it be? The beast was dead." It was seldom that LeFou had heard Peré Robert so disconcerted. He even dared to say he was afraid. "We made sure of it."

"Be it as it may, we'd better go see for ourselves." The doctor suggested, hiding a charged gun inside the pocket of his apron. "Let's go, Peré. Don't worry about these two; they'll be fine."

It was with no little reluctance that Peré Robert parted together with the doctor.

LeFou watched them leave. Once they were gone, he realized how tired he truly was. The news of the wolf had shaken his senses, but they quickly became dull with exhaustion.

"Stanley?" He asked, waiting for an answer that never came.

He tried again, but the result was the same.

"Stanley?" The last attempt was no different.

Disheartened, he succumbed to sleep again.

But before he vanished, he said one more name.

"Gaston?"

When he closed his eyes, most of what the voice told him was erased from his mind.

Only one phrase continued to haunt his dreams.

 _Come to me, LeFou._

* * *

The next time he woke up, a little girl welcomed him with a wide grin.

"He opened his eyes!" She cheered. "Dad, Uncle Tom!"

LeFou saw the two men answering to her calling. Tom's face softened with relief, almost to the point of tears, while Dick picked his daughter up and carried her in his arms.

"I told you he would, girl. There was no need to be so worried." He said, smiling. "Don't doubt your old man so easily."

"That's a terrible piece of advice. Take you father's words with a pinch of salt, kid." Tom said. "Or with a ton of it, in his case."

"Shut your hole before I make you, Tom." Dick ordered, holding his daughter with one hand and pointing at Tom with the other. "Stupid twit."

"No wonder the girl has such colorful language." LeFou said. His throat was dry and his voice was hoarse.

In any other circumstances, as jest of the sort would have earned him a friendly but hurting punch in the arm by any of the two men.

Their jolly reactions, free of any menacing undertone, were something new to LeFou.

He laughed together with them, until his mind jolted to more important matters.

"Stanley?" He sat down on the bed as if he had woken up from a nightmare.

Tom, Dick and his daughter took a step back, surprised by his reaction. They looked at each other before looking back at LeFou.

"He hasn't woken up." It was unnatural to hear Tom so solemn. Dick's sympathy was just as disturbing.

Whatever relief, or the hope it, vanished in that moment for LeFou.

With a strength he didn't know he had left , he pulled the blankets off of him and stood up for the first time in days.

His kneecaps, tired and unused to holding his weight, gave in and made him fall to the floor. He would have crashed his mouth against it if his hands hadn't gotten in the way at the last moment. The pain that exploded in his wrists and elbows expanded throughout all his body, quickly and completely, like a spark in gun powder.

He had to swallow a scream.

LeFou stayed in that position until Tom got him back on his feet. He held him by the arm with a strong but gentle grip.

He helped him walk towards the bed where Stanley slept, with Dick and his daughter following behind.

Stanley's eyes were closed.

He had the same peaceful expression so common among the dead.

LeFou had seen it before, but it had always been in the faces of strangers fallen in the battlefield.

To see it on Stanley was almost more than he could endure.

Tom looked away. LeFou felt him shiver with every breath he took.

It wouldn't be long before LeFou was reduced to the same condition, one he doubted he could ever recover.

"The doctor said there may be a way to help him wake up." Dick wiped his eyes with his sleeve. His daughter, evidently perplexed, looked at her father and Tom with a raised eyebrow. "He said it was guaranteed to work, but neither of us have the courage to attempt it."

"Tell me." LeFou said, with a lump in his throat. He was kneeling next to Stanley, caressing his hair with one hand and holding his unwounded arm with the other.

"He said that the only thing that can wake him up." Dick smiled at LeFou. "Is a kiss of true love."

LeFou didn't understand what was happening until he felt the arm under his hand move. Before he knew it, Stanley grabbed him by the nape, and joined their lips together in kiss that lased little more than an instant.

"Who would say it?" Stanley winked and pinched LeFou's cheek. "It worked! Who needs medicine when you have the power of love. Right, Lef?"

Dick exploded in a fit of laughter.

His daughter was as confused as before.

Tom turned his and looked at LeFou. It had never been his intention to hide his crying, but to avoid LeFou seeing him laugh before the jest was complete.

LeFou's face became crimson, with a bizarre mix of anger and happiness boiling deep inside him. Though the later was the dominant emotion by a large amount, LeFou let Stanley know what he thought of his tricks.

He snatched the pillow from under Stanley's head and began to slam it all over his body, with the only exception being his wounded arm.

"Stop it,Lef! It hurts." Stanley pleaded overdramatically.

"Hurt? What about me? Aren't your stupid jests hurtful?" LeFou said in between gasps, with tears of relief dripping from his chin. "You childish, inconsiderate,…."

"I'm happy to see you're fine." Stanley said from behind his healthy arm, which shielded him from LeFou's attacks.

It wasn't a mockery, but an earnest feeling.

It only caused LeFou to cry louder, and hit him harder.

Dick watched them, very entertained. His daughter, while still not understanding why Uncle Stanley had tricked monsieur LeFou, was now pleasantly smiling on her father's arms.

Tom kept laughing at their successful prank until he choked.

LeFou turned his attacks towards him, and he only spared Dick because of the child.

"What's going on here?" Said the doctor, drawn into the scene by the ongoing scandal. "LeFou, you're awake again! But, why are you hitting Stanley? Put that pillow down! Tom, Dick, do something!"

"Oh, I will." Dick grinned. "I'll watch."

It took the doctor half an hour to get everything back to normal. The only reason he managed to do so was because LeFou suddenly plumetted on the floor.

This time, Tom and Dick helped, and together they carried him back to his bed.

When LeFou came back to his senses again, it was nightfall.

"LeFou? Are you awake?" Stanley asked from his bed.

"No, I talk in my sleep." He scoffed.

Stanley laughed.

"I meant it, you know." His voice broke midsentence. LeFou didn't look at him, knowing Stanley's discomfort at someone watching him cry. "I'm glad to see you're fine."

"I'm glad to see you're fine too." LeFou wished they were closer so he could embrace him. "For a moment, I thought I'd lost you. I-"

"It's alright, you didn't." Stanley continued after LeFou couldn't find the words. "I'm still here."

"Yes." LeFou swallowed and nodded in his bed.

He was tired.

His eyelids betrayed him. Stanley could tell by the bumbling answers he recieved that LeFou was falling asleep.

"Until tomorrow, Lef." It was the last thing he said to LeFou that night. "Everything's alright. We can both rest now."

Stanley's words lulled LeFou into a gentle sleep.

But his dreams became corrupted by an intruding chanting that LeFou had come to know so well.

It turned his peace into restlessness.

 _Come to me, LeFou._

 _Come to me._

* * *

LeFou didn't feel the days pass by.

His recovery was a prolonged sleep with sporadic hours of consciousness. They happened mostly in the afternoon and at night.

Stanley would keep him company in those short hours. It was him whom did most of the talking, with LeFou answering mostly with grunts and nods of his head.

His conversational skills weren't at the top of their game, but his constant exhaustion didn't prevent LeFou from noticing that, unlike him, Stanley's recovery wasn't being as peaceful.

"I don't get it." Complained the doctor one day, while he changed Stanley's bandages for the second time that afternoon. "Why doesn't it stop bleeding?"

Stanley would always joke about his wound. Not once LeFou had heard him complain.

LeFou attributed Stanley's high spirits to the constants visitors they both received.

On the few moments he was awake, enough to have some hint of his surroundings, LeFou often saw Tom and Dick sitting on Stanley's bed.

Sometimes, their wives would accompany them and bring flowers.

Tom and Dick would also bring gifts of their own.

When the doctor was too busy to keep an eye on them, they'd sneak beer into clinic and a deck of cards.

They'd played together with Stanley for hours, until they were out of beer or the doctor chased them out.

Tom and Dick always tried to make LeFou join the game, but they desisted after several times of LeFou not being able to stay awake for one round.

Stanley also urged them to leave LeFou in peace, claiming he needed to rest.

Much to LeFou's surprise, Tom and Dick accepted his terms with little complain.

They'd also bet more coin and lose it more often than usual, judging by the growing size of Stanley's coin purse.

Stanley would get mad at them, saying that if he discovered they were losing on purpose, he'd fill their dirty mouths with coins and forced them to eat them.

"Why would we ever be so kind to you?" Tom asked one time, after losing more money than his wife would have approved. "' 'Tis blasphemy! Villain, I'm not thy mother!"

"Tom, no. No more of your Shakespearean dialect. It was funny for a few days, but now you just sound like an idiot." Dick complained, ready to smack Tom in the head.

"Even more than usual. It's that bad." Stanley said, earning a feint punch to the face from Tom.

At other times, Peré Robert came to see them. His visits were too quiet in comparison with the uproars that Tom and Dick caused.

He'd speak little, with most of his conversation focused in informing Stanley and LeFou, if he happened to be awake, of what was happening in the village.

From the scraps LeFou had picked up, and from what Staley told him in their brief nocturnal conversations, the wolf had been quartered, burned, and his ashes buried in a spot far away from the village's skirts.

When the villagers had first found it dead next to Stanley and LeFou's unconscious bodies, some of them had wished for its head to be hung on the tavern's wall. They claimed it would be a symbol of Stanley's and LeFou's bravery. Leading this group were Tom, Dick and their respective wives.

The other group, helmed by Peré Robert, had spoken against the idea, arguing that the corpse of such unnatural beast should be nowhere near their homes.

They had bickered about it like children for hours, until the moment the wolf's body moved anew and devoured a farmer's chickens.

The aftermath had been a gory scene.

According to the Peré, the stains of blood were still in the market. No amount of water and soap could wash them away, and the farmers had deemed that spot as a forbidden place to sell.

To complicate things, the village hadn't received any news from the castle.

The villagers grew more restless every day.

Some of the villagers were planning to venture into the forest and search for their missing royals, but not even this daring group could disregard the looming danger of the monstrous wolves.

They hadn't attacked the village yet, but some claimed their howling could be heard deep at night, coming from the forest like a bad omen.

The fear of losing their monarchs filled them with despair, but the fear of losing their families while they were away froze their blood.

They planned much, but acted little.

Soon, their discussions transformed into disputes that threatened to divide them.

"If the children hadn't spoken reason into their parents, we'd had stopped being a community long ago. Can you believe it?" Peré Robert said that day, with pride in his voice. LeFou, trapped between his dream and reality, could hear him from afar. "They said that we shouldn't let fear make us act in a foolish, violent way. I was surprised when I heard them say that, but I was more surprised when they told me who had taught it to them."

"What can I say? I'm so wise it'd be a waste if I didn't share my wisdom with younger generations. Call me Stanley, mentor of the young."

"Your humbleness is truly inspiring."

"I know, right? Careful, it might mesmerize you."

The Peré laughed together with Stanley, but the conversation ended abruptly. After a numb silence, Peré Robert stood so quickly that his chair slammed flat on the floor.

LeFou tried to move, but only his mind was awake.

The Peré's screams filled the room.

The doctor came running, looking pale and anguished, as if his clinic had been set on fire.

The Peré said something to him.

"Again?" The doctor sighed. "I'll get new bandages."

Stanley didn't make a sound.

 _"Stanley?_ " LeFou asked, aware that the words wouldn't leave his mouth. It didn't matter. He lost nothing by trying. " _Are you alright?_

His heart thumped with joy when he received an answer.

 _"He is not, but you are. That's what matters."_

Disappointment filled him with bitterness.

 _"Who are you?"_

 _"Have you forgotten me?"_

 _"No. How can I forget someone I don't know?"_

 _"Your body healed quickly, but your mind is still wounded. You even forgot my command."_ The voice had no emotion. _"Perhaps I was too kind with my petition. I won't be making that mistake again."_

 _"Wait. I know you."_ LeFou said. " _You always intrude in my dreams, and turn them into nightmares. You keep telling me to come to you."_

 _"Yes."_ The voice, emotionless and cold, had a trace of approval. " _Come now."_

 _"Why should I?"_

 _"Do their lives don't matter to you?"_

 _"What do you want of them, you-"_ LeFou had not a name for the voice. _"What do you want from me? Even if I did as you say, even if I trusted you, there's nothing I could do. I'm just a weak man."_

" _True, but strength of body or heart is not what I seek. It's you."_

 _"Then you seek for the wrong thing."_

 _"What you think is of no relevance."_ The voice said,not allowing a reply _. "Weak man, you have much to do. Come to me. This time, you will not forget. I'll make sure of that."_

LeFou felt a touch.

It threw him into a pit of bleakness he could only escape by waking up.

Even then, the echo of the contact stayed with him.

He scrubbed his eyes until they became bloodshot, but he couldn't make the lingering sensation go away.

Chiseled in his mind and eyelids, the command was too present for LeFou to ignore, no matter how much he tried.

It was a pestering, agitating thought he soon began to resent.

"Monsieur LeFou?"

He saw only a blurred, small figure standing next to him.

"You're awake again!" The girl clapped in joy. She tilted her head and, gently, she rested her hand on his arm. "Why do you look so scared? Were you having a nightmare?"

He stood silent.

"There, there." Said the girl with a pretended maternal tone. She left, and returned with a glass of water LeFou gulped down in two sips. "It was only a dream. Dad says it's silly to be afraid of dreams."

"Why are you here?" It wasn't LeFou's intention to sound so stern.

When his eyesight cleared, he saw the girl flinch at his tone.

She looked down, twisting a piece of paper in her hands.

"I was just…, father and Uncle Tom are busy discussing with the other grownups, so I thought it would be a good time to give you this." The girl offered LeFou the paper. "I was going to leave it here, so you could read it when you woke up. But you can read it now! It's the first time I write something all by myself, but I don't think I did a bad job."

LeFou frowned, leaving the gift on the girl's hands.

 _I don't care. How many times must I say it? I can't read._

He was tempted to say it out loud.

He was wasting his time with the child's nonsense. Something important had to be done, and the girl was meddling.

Something in LeFou's expression must have told the girl of his feelings.

For a moment, he saw tears in her eyes, but her initial sadness was swiftly replaced with a scowl that was a reminiscence of her father's.

"I'll leave then!" She squashed the paper and stomped her way towards the door.

LeFou was glad to see her out of his way.

The coldness of his thoughts started to melt before she left for good.

Once his mind cleared from the fog of bitterness the voice had left behind, he felt a twinge of shame.

When had he become so unapproachable?

It had never been in his nature.

Not even the war had changed that.

He wouldn't let some petty thoughts to succeed where the hardest time of his life had failed.

Fearing the change that could happen in him, LeFou found traces of his former mood and stopped the girl with the loudest voice he could mutter.

"Wait."

A fit of cough followed.

He wondered how long it had been since he had last tried to speak louder than a whisper.

The girl heard him.

She glared at him over her shoulder.

LeFou gestured at her, indicating her to return to his side.

The prideful look in her eyes made LeFou think she would ignore him and leave.

It took her a moment of deliberation, but eventually, the girl returned to LeFou. She folded her arms and looked away. The paper on her hands was now little more than a wrinkled bundle.

"What?" She demanded.

Slowly, LeFou took the paper from her hands.

"I'm sorry." He smiled at her. "Thank you."

It was all it took for the girl to leave behind her angry façade.

"Don't be sorry, read it!" She urged LeFou as she giggled. "Go on!"

"I don't know how." LeFou said as gently he could.

The girl looked disappointed at first, but it was only for a moment. She nodded at LeFou in understanding.

"I didn't know how to read either, until Belle taught me." She said. "It's not difficult. You could learn, and then you could read it, Monsieur LeFou. Maybe Belle could teach you too, or Uncle Stanley, once he gets better."

LeFou flinched at the sound of his name.

He turned his head so quickly he almost strained his neck.

Stanley was in a deep sleep.

LeFou wondered if that was how Stanley felt every time he looked at him, so profoundly lost in his dreams that only the movement of his chest were proof he was still alive.

LeFou couldn't see his wounded arm.

Maybe that was for the better.

"He'll be fine." The girl reassured him. She too looked at Stanley. When she looked at LeFou again, there was doubt in her expression. "Right, Monsieur LeFou?"

LeFou said nothing.

He couldn't answer what he didn't know, what he didn't want to hear.

 _Come to me._

He shuddered.

To know the voice had left a mark so firmly carved in him that it resurged with every beating of his heart filled him with horror.

Yet, he dared not to disobey it.

There was also a part of him that wished to comply. If something good was to come out of doing as the voice commanded, it was the chance to know what had been of Belle and the rest.

He owed her and her father that much.

LeFou had no way to know if he would achieve anything. The answer to that question was as feeble and uncertain as Stanley's recovery.

But what other choice did he have?

Stanley's words came to LeFou.

They helped him see his decision of following the command as something he chose, not something that had been imposed to him.

"Girl, listen. I need you to do me favor."

"Do you want more water?"

"I must go to the forest." He explained to her. "But no one must notice when I do."

"Why?" The girl was as curious as confused. "But you needn't go alone! I don't know for sure what the adults always talk about, but they're planning to go to the forest soon too. A big group of them. You could join in. Father and Uncle Tom will be going as well."

So, whatever reason the children had spoken into their parents, it was finally starting to fade. Tom and Dick would hasten its decay.

LeFou knew there was little time before they finally acted.

"I need to go alone. Tonight." Judging by the sunlight, there were only a few hours left. "But I can't go by foot. I'll need a horse, some food and water too."

LeFou had none of them.

His horse had been lost amidst the battle in the Prince's castle, and it had been weeks since he had last provided his home with a decent food suply.

LeFou sighed. He hadn't realized how much of an empty space he had made out of Belle's house.

It was barely more than a place to spend the night.

It wasn't for nothing he had become so dependent on the tavern to feed him every day.

He would have left the village for good if it hadn't been for…

LeFou looked at Stanley again. He remembered the many things they still didn't know about each other.

Meanwhile, the girl stared at him with a pensive look.

As if punched in the face, LeFou understood how ridiculous was what he asked for.

Dick and his wife were not the strictest of parents, but they wouldn't laugh at the sight of their child assaulting her mother's kitchen and stealing one of his father's steeds.

What had he been thinking?

He doubted he had been thinking at all.

To involve a child in whatever was happening to him was -

 _Come to me._

LeFou closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his hand. It didn't hurt, but the restlessness of the thought dizzied him.

 _Come to me._

"Ah, LeFou! At last." The doctor greeted as he came into the room. "Child, what are you doing here? Do not disturb my patient with your nonsense! Move along now."

Far from being intimidated, the girl stuck her tongue out to the doctor and made a run for it before he had a chance to react.

She slammed the door behind her.

Stanley grunted in his sleep, but he didn't wake up.

"I swear, the apple never falls far from the tree." The doctor complained as he walked towards LeFou. "LeFou, calm down. You look as if you had bled all your blood. Lay down and rest, my friend."

"After all this time, the last thing I want is to lay down." LeFou said. "Don't worry about me. How's Stanley?"

The doctor's smile froze in his lips and shattered. An indifferent face soon covered whatever emotion he had allowed to leak.

"He heals, but not properly." He saw no point in sugar coating the truth. "The wound isn't infected. It should be scarring by now, but every time a scab starts to form, it reopens anew, as fresh as the moment the wolf bit him. I've tried everything to close it; sewing it, cauterizing it…but nothing works."

Stanley hadn't said anything about it. If he had ever complained about the pain, only Tom and Dick had been his witnesses.

LeFou clenched his jaw.

"Those methods are not gentle on the body. Stanley endures them well, but if I continue to force the wound closed, I may cause him permanent damage." The doctor nodded at LeFou. "The bandages have been working fine for now, though."

It was a sad comfort, and they both knew it.

"I'll get you something to help you relax. Rest, LeFou. Focus on your own healing now." Aware he had said more than enough, the doctor prepared to leave the room. "Worrying will not help you, or him."

He left LeFou alone with his thoughts.

There was a time where that would have been comforting, but now, it was just a chance for the command to resound louder in his head.

 _Come to me_

 _Come to me, LeFou._

 _"No."_

 _"What?"_

 _"Stanley needs me here. I won't leave him."_

 _"The fate of that man means nothing."_

 _"It does for me."_

 _"A noble sentiment, but stupid in nature."_

 _"Call it as you wish. I won't go anywhere."_

 _"So you'll hold the hand of a sick man until he dies, when you could be doing something to prevent it?"_

 _"Silence. I won't fall for your tricks."_

 _"It is no trick. Come to me, and you may find a way to help this man you care so much about."_

 _"Now you're just telling me what I wish to hear. You don't care about Stanley at all, you're simply trying to make me believe you do, so I can act as your puppet and do as you tell me."_

 _"True, I don't care about him. But what I speak is no lie; come to me and he may live. This I promise you."_

 _"I don't even know your name, and you expect me to believe in your promises? You take me for a bigger fool than I am."_

 _"Then may death take you too, coward. And when it takes him first, together with the rest of us, know that the outcome could have been different, but you chose to do nothing. Like you always have."_

LeFou could taste the anger of its departure.

It woke him up. He had no way of telling when he had fallen sleep again.

The windows showed him the silver light of a starry sky.

His nose itched. When he attempted to scratch it, he discovered a small paper ball on his clenched hand.

He unfolded it without making a sound.

He expected to find incomprehensible letters, but he found a drawing instead.

Drawn with a skill only a mother could praise, LeFou discovered the image of a horse.

She had done it.

Not knowing if it was right to feel pride for the what the girl had accomplished, LeFou sat on the bed.

It wasn't too late to act, he thought.

There was only something that stopped him.

Someone.

Without a previous warning, Stanley hissed and hugged his wounded arm.

He twitched in his bed like fish out of water.

LeFou noticed the great effort he made in keeping his pain as quiet as possible.

He liked to think it was the first time it happened, but he knew this was a routine for Stanley.

That settled it.

He wasn't going to back down.

"LeFou!" Stanley stopped moving when he saw LeFou leaving the bed. He grabbed his wounded arm by the shoulder. "Don't scare me like that. Go back to sleep, we'll talk tomorrow, alright? I must tell you about… LeFou? Where are you going? Wait, LeFou!"

LeFou knew he would try to go after him. He looked at him one last time before opening the clinic's door and disappearing into the night.

Stanley was trying to get up, but the pain of his wound overcame his efforts.

"LeFou, wait for me."

"Stanley." He muttered. He turned around and ran away, feeling his determination waver at the sight of Stanley trying so hard to go after him.

Outside, waiting for him with the reins attached to a post, there was a horse with a small satchel hanging from the riding chair.

LeFou mounted it and kicked the animal on its sides.

The horse neighed and stood on its hinder legs, before trotting away as fast as it could.

Soon, LeFou left Villeneuve behind. The further he went, the more his village became a small spot in the distance.

 _"So, you changed you mind after all. Let's waste no more time, then. Venture into the forest. Come to me, LeFou. "_

 _"But where? The forest is too big."_

 _"Follow my lead. "_

 _"I see nothing."_

 _"That not necessary. You'll feel it, like an invisible thread you can sense. Follow it blindly, and you will reach me. Don't hesitate, and don't be scared. I'll try to keep you from harm's way as best as I can."_

 _"I… I'll try."_

 _"For now, that's good enough."_

The voice left him, but her command stayed.

LeFou felt it pulling him closer to the forest, like a trapping melody of the sailor's tales.

As the horse trotted by the first trees that formed the forest, LeFou looked over his shoulder, and wondered if Stanley was still calling for him


End file.
